Brotherly Love
by gomababe
Summary: Full summary inside, but it's basically a bonding fic. We really need more of these around.


A/N: It seems to be a common perception that Scotland would be abusive to England about 90% of the time. This makes me, as a Scottish person, really rather upset. Scottish people abroad tend to have a very good reputation and the discrimination against people simply because they are English is a lot better than it used to be. Any gripes the Scottish people have against England is mostly political in nature these days anyway.

...

England was not at all happy. In fact, this seemed to be a bit of an understatement, he was absolutely livid. Scotland poked his head around the kitchen door after England dropped his favourite mug and let out a string of curse words too foul to be mentioned outside the house,

"Somethin' botherin' ye wean?" the red haired nation asked casually as England threw the pieces of porcelain into the sink with a scowl. He rounded on his brother,

"Whatever the hell gave you that idea." He sneered, dusting his hands off. Scotland snorted a little,

"Maybe the fact that ye're throwing stuff aroond in here." He suggested nonchalantly. England turned back to the sink and glowered out of the window,

"What the hell do you want Scotland?" he asked darkly. Instead of backing off, like most sane nations would do at this point, Scotland came into the kitchen and stood beside his younger brother. Leaning casually on the counter he pulled out a packet of cigarettes,

"I'm no' here to ask ony favours. I jus' want tae ken why ye're sae worked up." He replied, glancing at England out of the corner of his eye, "A' that huffin' and puffin' and bein' a' agitated cannae be ony guid fer yer blood pressure." England eyed the cigarette packet with disdain,

"And smoking is better is it?" he asked sardonically. Scotland smirked as he took one out of the packet and placed it between his lips,

"And? We're no' talkin' aboot ma health here." He said around the cigarette, searching his pockets for a lighter. Finally finding it Scotland lit the cigarette and took a satisfied drag, "So, ye gonnae tell me what's wrang, or am I gonnae hafta force it oot o' ye?" he asked. England took another glare at the cigarette and then looked out of the window,

"I'm not a child Scotland, I can deal with this myself." Scotland chuckled,

"Ye're still a wee bairn s'far as I'm concerned laddie." He retorted. England sighed,

"It's nothing important." He muttered. Scotland cocked his head to the side,

"If it's no' important then why are ye throwin' a tantrum o'er it?" he asked, eyeing his brother with a mildly concerned expression. England shook his head,

"Forget it, like I said, it's nothing important." Scotland frowned. It was clear to him that England really did need to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him. The Celtic nation flicked some of his ash into the sink,

"Somethin's obviously botherin' ye laddie an' ye'll need tae talk tae someone aboot it." He said simply. England glanced at his brother then continued looking out of the window, his expression currently unreadable,

"And what makes you think I would want to talk to you about it, even if I wanted to?" he snapped. Scotland lowered his cigarette slowly, looking hurt,

"I wis only offerin'." He muttered, turning to look out of the window as well. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two nations, almost a millennium of tension slowly building up between them. Finally England sighed and turned to face the kitchen, looking at his oldest brother, who was watching the rain outside with a wearied expression,

"Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you." He said quietly, "I'm just being a stubborn prick." Scotland gave his brother a long glance,

"I ken we've never really seen eye tae eye laddie, but... I'm hurt" He replied, his voice somewhat hoarse. England looked down at the floor. He knew he'd gone too far with his last comment; Scotland was only trying to help,

"I know," he muttered, "I'm being a properly stubborn arse aren't I?" Scotland chuckled weakly,

"Ye're too prideful fer yer ain guid ye ken. Ye should learn tae tak' help when it's offered." Scotland put his cigarette out, "But seein' as ye dinnae want tae talk I might as well leave it be..." the red haired nation turned to leave the kitchen, but was stopped as he felt something tug at his sleeve. He looked around to see England gripping the fabric, his head bowed. Scotland frowned in confusion until England spoke,

"No... I'm sorry, I do need to talk about this." He said so quietly that Scotland almost didn't hear him. Smiling faintly Scotland pulled his brother into a hug,

"I'll go put the kettle on and we can hae a saft seat while ye tell me a' aboot it." He said, "An' I promise that, if it's tae dae wi' France, i'll no' laugh." He added, smiling more genuinely as England laughed weakly,

"It's nothing to do with France." He assured the older nation. Scotland laughed as well,

"Guid, cause I dinnae want tae have tae listen tae France's side o' yer stupid arguments either." He said as he let his brother go. England snorted in amusement,

"As if you'd ever get tired of getting to pick fun at me when I'm out of earshot." He retorted. Scotland sighed,

"Actually I'm gettin' kindae tired o' the twa o' ye's bickerin' like a coupla spoilt wee bairns, but we'll leave that fer another day, aye?" England nodded as Scotland went over to put the kettle on, remaining silent as the Celtic nation pottered about making the tea. He didn't bother to complain as his brother pushed him into the living room either. He was just grateful that, for once, Scotland was actually treating him like a little brother. When Scotland arrived into the living room, the two of them ended up having a chat that lasted well into the night.

...

Wales yawned as he picked his way into the living room, he hated being woken up early, especially when he'd been out the night before. He glanced briefly at the couch, then did a double take as he noticed something odd. The Welshman smiled quietly to himself and slipped into the kitchen unnoticed by his brothers, who were both curled up on the couch, Scotland's arm wrapped around England's shoulders. The two of them were fast asleep, and Wales was going to take full advantage of that. He quickly snapped a photo on his phone and put it aside for blackmail purposes. Well, the opportunity was far too good to pass up.


End file.
